


A Question of Heroics

by Brekkable



Series: A Question of... [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-17
Updated: 2013-08-17
Packaged: 2017-12-23 20:39:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/930874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brekkable/pseuds/Brekkable
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is the Golden Trio's sixth year, and the newest DADA professor has arrived at Hogwart, bringing with her all the right answers AND all the right questions. Pairings are not determined as of yet. This story is AU as of the publishing of HBP.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Introducing Our Characters

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own anything that JKR has under copyright, neither do I own the rights to any quotes, references or otherwise mentioned materials.
> 
> Author's Note: OK, so this is one of my bigger fics...I have around 60,000 words written of it so far, as well as archived at Twisting the Hellmouth. The goal that I set for myself when writing this piece of work was that, for once, I would write a fic where the main character was both believable and intelligent (I have a propensity towards creating Mary Sue's. I'm in detox for it, but the process is both over-dramatic and rather painful; there are no patches for this particular addiction). Ultimately, I have created an original character that is entirely too much like my mother for my own peace of mind; I am, however, confident that she will prove as amusing and aggravating to you as she has been for me.

 

Brethany took in a shaky breath, then smoothed her skirt with trembling hands. Really, this couldn’t possibly be any more difficult than standing before the panel of wand makers to prove that she had earned her wand making license. Setting her shoulders with a grim smile, she walked hesitantly into the Great Hall. The chattering halted as soon as the group of teachers caught sight of her.

     “Ah, Brethany,” blue eyes twinkled at her from across the table. Albus Dumbledore smiled brightly. “Please, do come in! I believe we may have left you some supper.” Brethany managed to work up a small smile as she approached the table. Oh, dear…all those sharp eyes, staring at her… “May I introduce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher,” Dumbledore indicated her, and eyes widened in shock. “Brethany Lewis, these are your fellow staff members, Minerva McGonagall, Transfiguration professor; Filius Flitwick, Charms professor; Sybil Trelawney, Divination professor; Irma Pince, our librarian; Rubeus Hagrid, Care of Magical Creatures professor; Pomona Sprout…” As the introductions continued, Brethany met the eyes of each person and nodded in acknowledgement. Inside, she threw up her hands in defeat; names were definitely not her strong point. Maybe she could ask that they wear name tags for the first few weeks? A smile fought its way to her face just as the last introduction was made. “…Severus Snape, Potions professor.” Her smile faded; oh, dear…

Severus Snape sneered slightly at the young woman. Merlin, she was young! What had Albus been thinking?! She looked surprisingly collected for being such a young adult, but Snape could also see the slight tremble in her hands.

 “Professor Snape,” Brethany acknowledged him quietly, nodding her head in greeting.

“Oh, no need for that, dear,” the school nurse…Pomfrey!...grinned at her. “Just call us by our given names. I am Poppy, and that is Severus, but don’t mind him, he’s always grumpy when he has a potion waiting for him.” The Potions teacher scowled, and Brethany suddenly began to feel more at home. Really, they were just a bunch of overgrown teenagers. Gossipy, incredibly talented and experienced teenagers, but teenagers nonetheless.

“You may call me Professor Snape,” the man told her sharply. “I do not permit _children_ to address me by my given name.” He glared at her critically. “I see the Defense position is still holding its regrettable loathsome luck. Really, Albus, even with the history of that position, was it necessary to contract a naïve little girl for the job?”

Behind Brethany, someone inhaled sharply. She was holding back a laugh as she regarded the dark man before her. “Professor Snape,” the young woman spoke evenly, “Hogwarts has survived many years with a senile old man as headmaster; I am quite certain she will survive with a naïve little girl as the Defense teacher. Perhaps the position needs a change of scenery in order to break its ‘regrettably loathsome luck’.” She held his gaze calmly, her mouth twitching slightly as they both ignored the shocked gasps behind her. Really, she hadn’t had so much fun since she left home!

“Hogwarts may have survived, but that is not to say that she remains untouched,” Snape spoke wryly, his black eyes glinting. “Still, you cannot be much worse than many of our former teachers.”

Brethany raised an eyebrow. “Was that a compliment, Professor Snape?” she asked drolly, smirking slightly.

Snape raised an eyebrow as well. “Take it as you wish, Miss Lewis. Meanwhile, I must attend to a potion.” With a brusque nod to his colleagues, the man swept out of the hall, his robes billowing behind him.

“Oh, my…” Brethany turned around to see Minerva McGonagall smiling at her in bemusement. “You may indeed take that as a compliment, Brethany. Severus rarely says such things, and he always means it.”

 “Congratulations, Brethany, on succeeding where many others have faltered,” Albus told her happily. “You have prevailed against Severus Snape using his own weapons against him.”

Brethany grinned. “Oh, he’s just like my brothers. They enjoy making subtle digs at people without their targets ever realizing it. I’m quite familiar with sarcastic taunts and witty debates. I think I like the Potions professor.”

 “Well then,” Poppy smile at her brightly, “You have half the difficulty I teaching here conquered.”

The Defense teacher frowned. “What’s the other half?”

“Now you simply have to establish yourself with the students,” Minerva told her sympathetically, patting her on the shoulder. “Don’t concern yourself overly much; it is quite likely that you will survive the experience.”

Brethany eyed the older woman suspiciously. That...had not sounded particularly reassuring.


	2. The First Question

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our heroine finds herself with first-day jitters, and her students find themselves facing some unusual questions. Also, Remus has a cameo appearance! And, we discover Albus' creepy stalker tendencies...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the full disclaimer, please see the notes in the first chapter.

Brethany had never been intoxicated in her life, but that morning, she wished she were. The previous night had gone well…she had gotten no sleep, but at least she had all her materials together. She had an hour until her first class, and she was absolutely, completely and utterly terrified. Admitting to this was easy; fixing it, not nearly so.

She slowly made her way into the DADA classroom, wincing slightly at how bare it was. She had cleaned the room herself, emptying it of all portraits, artifacts, posters and photos that had accumulated over the years. The reasons behind this purging of the room would be explained in each class over the next few days. As it was, the _only_ thingin the classroom other than desks and chairs was a single bookshelf on the back wall, filled with books and parchments.

Brethany’s first class consisted of the sixth year Gryffindors and Slytherins. It was a double class, which meant for her first teaching experience, she would have two solid hours of the most volatile class in the entire school. She had been warned, of course, and thus had very good idea of what to expect if she did not immediately take control of the class.

Half an hour to go…. Brethany resorted to sitting at her desk and organizing the same exact contents that she had organized the evening before. The more she tried not to think about what was about to happen, the further her courage sank. Fifteen minutes…

“You look much like I did on my first day,” a deep male voice echoed through the room, and Brethany’s head whipped up. In the doorway stood a tall, skinny man with sandy brown hair. He walked toward her, smiling warmly. “I am Remus Lupin, a former Defense teacher. I had to speak with Albus about something, and thought that I would give you a few words of encouragement.”

“Lupin?” Brethany smiled and shook his hand gratefully. “Minerva told me about you, said you were the only good teacher they had in almost fifteen years. Thank you for stopping in.” She chuckled slightly. “I sound rather like a clerk in a store, don’t I?”

Lupin laughed. “You sound like a new teacher on her first day. Do you think you’re ready?”

Brethany drew in a deep breath, then let it out slowly. “Yes. Yes, I do think so.” She flashed his a quick smile. “Actually, do you have a couple hours? You could stay if you like, and then give me a few pointers afterward.”

 Lupin studied her face curiously, then laughed at her hopeful expression. “I do have some free time. I wouldn’t mind at all. Where would you like?”

Brethany grinned and walked over to the bookshelf. “I found a place back here last week when I moved the shelves. There’s a hollow in the wall, with a seat, and if you move a few of the books there’s an excellent view of the room. I think Albus used it tow spy on his teachers at times, but he only hummed and winked when I asked him about it.” Lupin chuckled lightly as he poked his around the bookcase to look at the indicated space. “Only ten minutes until class, so you’d better get in. there’s a cushioning charm on the seat and walls, so it’s rather comfy, and I cleaned it thoroughly, so it shouldn’t be musty.” Brethany watched anxiously as the man folded his lanky frame into the niche. “Are you all right?” A slightly muffled reply reached her ears, then several books were moved on a middle shelf.

“It’s quite nice, really. A little snug, but quite nice.” Lupin’s face peered through the hole in the shelves. “I’d best put a Notice-Me-Not on myself, though. Harry is standing behind you, by the way.” Brethany stifled an ‘eep!’ of surprise as she whirled around to see the fore mentioned teenager.

 “Mr. Potter!” she barely kept herself from stuttering, then took a deep breath and relaxed. Thank heaven for a sense of humor! “So you’ve caught us in the act! What price might you demand for your silence?” Harry Potter stared at her quizzically, a confused smile on his face.

“Ah…can I have a little time to think about it?” he asked, unsure of what was going on. “And can I ask what Remus is-?

“No time!” Brethany strode to her desk, gesturing for Harry to seat himself. The teenage boy did so slowly, casting one last look at Lupin, who gave a quick wink and nod.

There was a wild clatter as the students rushed in to get their chosen seats, and for a brief few minutes, there was utter chaos. Brethany was torn between amusement and horror at the behavior of the group as they chattered, argued and yelled across the to each other about the events of their summer and the few classes they had attended so far that day.

When at last some semblance of quiet seemed to be achieved, Brethany stood from her desk and approached the seated students. “Good morning,” she spoke quietly, and nearly everyone went still and silent. “Good day,” she repeated, eyes wandering over the jumble of teenagers. “My name is Professor Brethany Lewis. I’m sure many of you are wondering how someone as young as myself was selected for this post…” several students exchanged glances, “But let me assure you that I am quite qualified.”

A girl, Gryffindor, raised her hand, and Brethany nodded. “So how old _are_ you, Professor Lewis?”

Brethany grinned. “I will be twenty-one on New Year’s Eve.” This startled them, she saw. Several of the Slytherin students, the blond boy, Malfoy, especially, were beginning to scowl in apparent disapproval. “Perhaps it would help if I gave you just a little background information,” she spoke quietly.

“My family is originally from Britain, where my father was an auror and my mother a muggle nurse. When I was nine years old, my father moved our family over to the United States, where he took over a management position in the International Aurors Department.” She paused for a moment, suddenly relaxed. “My father took care of the magical education of all his nine children, and I was taught for five years by he and his fellow aurors. When I took my O.W.L.s, I had thirteen OWLs,” there was a quiet murmur at this, “And I did so well in NEWTs at age fifteen that I entered into two apprenticeships immediately after my sixteenth birthday.” This caused an even louder murmur.

“I recently achieved my Masteries in Wandmaking and General Magical Defense, which I think you will agree makes me fully qualified for this position.” Brethany enjoyed the wary look that had entered the Malfoy boy’s eyes. Two Masteries by age twenty was truly an amazing thing. It required being in simultaneous apprenticeships, a great deal of power, very little sleep, and more patience than any one person could possess. 

“So…” Brethany grinned at them, “Are you all comfortable?” There was a mutter of assent. Her grin widened. “Well, I am truly sorry to say this, but that is going to change. I would like all the girls on this side, and all the boys on the other.” Protests immediately rose, but the Defense teacher simply raised her wand, and the noise died down.

“Thank you. Now, there are an equal number of Slytherin and Gryffindor girls, so I want one of each at every desk.” Protests rose even louder, and the boys looked on in trepidation, expecting the same mandate for themselves. Brethany gave a brisk wave of her wand, and every mouth was magically sealed shut. “Now,” she spoke quietly, staring each girl in the eyes, “One Slytherin girl will sit with one Gryffindor girl, the same pair for the rest of this term. Once I remove this spell, I expect to hear silence in this room unless I ask for a response. If someone speaks out of turn, and this does include whispering, that person will find him or herself unable to speak for the entire day.” She smiled rather sadistically. “The spell is wordless, so it is likely that only the Headmaster himself would be able to remove it.”

No one moved, and Brethany nodded her approval and removed the spell. “Very good. Now then, if the girls would take their seats, we can continue.” There was a short stillness, then they reluctantly began moving. Once they had seated themselves, glancing doubtfully at each other, Brethany turned to the boys. “Well, now it’s your turn. Draco Malfoy, would you step forward, please?” The blond boy stepped to the front. “And Ronald Weasley, also?” A tall, gangly redhead obeyed slowly, eyeing the other boy reluctantly.

Brethany pulled a desk and two chairs to the center of the room and facing the other students. “Please have a seat here, you two.” She didn’t stop to see their reactions, but turned immediately to the other boys. “The rest of you may sit with whomever you please, but remember that I do not tolerate inattention in my class. Any disruptions will be punished immediately, and let me inform you now that I have a great deal of imagination when it comes to creating punishments.” She paused and looked the students over. “I trust everyone understands?” They nodded hesitantly. “Good. Now, we will begin.” She drew in a small breath. She could do this.

“You may have noticed how bare this room is.” It had been noted, of course. The entire room was undecorated, cold stone. It made for a rather bleak atmosphere. “I would like for this room to signify our approach to Defense Against the Dark Arts. There is no sign of past professors,” here Harry Potter glanced toward the bookcase with a small frown, “No reminders of different things you have been taught at home in regards to the Dark Arts, and no indications of what may be learned in the future.” Frowns began to emerge. “Essentially,” she continued, “I am removing all preconceived ideas about this subject.” Many of them seemed to understand, and a few even appeared to approve. “To demonstrate how each class period will begin, I will be having Mr. Weasley and Mr. Malfoy answer a few questions for us.”

Brethany removed two pieces of parchment from her desk and handed one to each boy. “On the parchment are a list questions, rather controversial questions that I wish for each of you two to answer, and the rest of you to think about. When I ask the question, Mr. Malfoy, you will answer first by reading the parchment. Mr. Weasley will then read the answer that appears on his own parchment, and we will discuss the answers.” She waited to see if they would react, but neither spoke up.

“The first question: What is a Muggleborn witch or wizard, and what is his or her place in the Wizarding World?” There was immediately a stir of interest, and Brethany barely restrained herself from smirking; she had expected such a reaction. A hand rose into the air from the girls’ side, and she nodded. “Yes, Miss…”

“Hermione Granger. What does that question have to do with the Dark Arts, Professor Lewis?” Brethany grinned; she had expected that, as well.

“Any of you may answer this question in turn: Under what cause does Voldemort make himself known?” She pointed to another girl. “Yes, Miss…”

“Zabini,” the dark-haired Slytherin identified herself, “The Dark Lord fights in order to keep wizarding blood pure and thus the magic of the world balanced.”

“That’s a very comprehensive answer. Could I get an answer from one of the Muggleborn here? Yes, Mister…”

“Dean Thomas,” the dark-skinned teenager replied nervously. “Ah…doesn’t You-Know-Who fight because he’s racist? I mean, isn’t he just like Hitler? He thinks that purebloods are more powerful and better than halfbloods or Muggleborns. That can’t be right because Hermione Granger gets the best grades in the whole school!” There was a mutter of agreement from the Gryffindors, while most of the Slytherins looked as though they’d bitten a lemon.

Brethany chuckled. “There are some definite similarities between Hitler and Voldemort, yes, and while I would agree with you about Miss Granger’s prowess, I do not think that makes her extremely powerful, at least magically.” She paused. “Magical power is not something that shows itself much here in school. Grades, while very important, show almost primarily learning skills only, which have very little to do with the magic itself. But we haven’t uncovered any other information about the question as to what Muggleborns have to do with the Dark Arts. Mr. Potter,” the entire class looked at the teenage boy, “What connection do you see between Muggleborns and the Dark Arts?”

“Well…because Voldemort and the Death Eaters use the excuse of exterminating any witch or wizard not of pure blood, Muggleborns are supposedly at the greatest risk of being killed some use of the Dark Arts.”

“Anything else, Mr. Potter?” Brethany asked casually, noting the tightening of his jaw.

“I...yes, there is something else.” Harry squared his shoulders and took a deep breath. “Because he grew up in a muggle orphanage where he was abused, Voldemort bears a grudge against muggles that has nothing to do with magical power and everything to do with revenge. Voldemort himself is a half blood, and he tried to get my mother, who was Muggleborn, to join him.” In the ensuing shocked silence, Brethany smiled.

“Precisely, Mr. Potter. Voldemort’s campaign for pureblood supremacy is not only hypocritical, but is also one of the greatest paradoxes known in the Wizarding World. Many would say that you, Mr. Potter, are closer to being a pureblood than Voldemort, because both your parents were magical.” She grinned. “But that’s a discussion for another day. For now, though, I think you all understand how the issue of Muggleborns is related to the Dark Arts.” There were grudging nods from the majority of the class. “Very well, then! Mr. Malfoy, since you’ve had ample time to scan the answer, would you be so kind as to give one view on what a Muggleborn witch or wizard is, and what his or her place is in the Wizarding World?”

In the silence, Draco Malfoy breathed in slowly, his face a mask of indifference, and his eyes cool. He began to slowly read off the parchment in his hand. “A Muggleborn is a witch or wizard who was born of non-magical people, often squibs of the second or third generation.” There was a stir from a few Gryffindors, the Muggleborns of that house and year. “Muggleborns are predominantly of average magical power, with a small percentage reaching the same level of power as the more powerful Purebloods.” Malfoy’s voice faltered slightly, then steadied. “The Laws of Magic, as originally proclaimed by Merlin himself, state that each Muggleborn witch or wizard is to be formally adopted by a pureblood family, thus ensuring that magical blood would be occasionally cleansed and strengthened by fresh blood. This law, though now ignored and largely unknown, has never been officially revoked.” The entire room was in shocked silence. Brethany knew quite well that the law had been buried several hundred years previously; no one had noticed it in almost as long.

“The modern laws of the Wizarding World state that the Muggleborn witch or wizard has as many rights and privileges as Purebloods do. In 1853, Wilhelm Carmichael, who held a powerful position in the Wizengamot, put forth the proposal that Muggleborns be granted higher rights and privileges than Purebloods. He believed that this would not only give a minority group a better possibility of surviving, but also heighten the possibility of purebloods and Muggleborns intermarrying, thus dramatically strengthening the bloodlines. The proposal was denied.” Malfoy let out a long breath as he laid the parchment down on the desk, looking as shell-shocked as his fellow students.

“Thank you, Mr. Malfoy. Ten points to Slytherin,” Brethany spoke quietly, her face serious. “Now, Mr. Weasley, would you please give your answer?” The redheaded Gryffindor swallowed, his horror apparent on his face. “Go ahead, Mr. Weasley,” the teacher ordered him.

“Muggleborns a-are the genetic anomalies of the Wizarding World. Although some are the product of squibs intermarrying, there are also some that cannot possibly be so, such as Negroid Muggleborn.” Several faces screwed up in confusion until Dean Thomas spoke quietly,

“He means black people. Like me and Lee Jordan.”

Ron Weasley looked questioningly at the Defense teacher, who nodded silently for him to continue. “Because of this abnormal origin of a good percentage of Muggleborn, many purebloods consider the entire group to be of ‘dirty blood’. Because it is unknown where or how or even what kind of magic comes from and into Muggleborns, it is considered dangerous to mix blood with them, lest the magic that the Wizarding World was built upon become mutated into some different, more dangerous, or less powerful form of magic.” Several faces had gone pale. Dean Thomas and Hermione Granger looked rather as though they were going to be sick, likely because they had understood everything being said. The muggle science of genetics cast a great deal of light on the straits the Wizarding World was currently in, and it was obvious the two were familiar with the science.

“However, because no formal studies have been made, there is also a small faction among purebloods that believes that those Muggleborn not of squib descent are the only magical anomalies. Negro Muggleborn that may have the lingering traces of the Dark Magic Voodoo from their ancient ancestors, somehow are born with the vastly different magic of the Wizarding World. This, while disturbing to many, is not so important as may be expected, because of the minute chances of Negroid blood mixing with the normal Wizarding blood.” Several people bristled at that and opened their mouths to protest, but Brethany spoke up.

“Before any of you decide to make a scene, please realize that these are facts being stated, not personal views.” She paused as she watched them settle back down. “Also, be reminded that my warning still stands for those who speak out of turn.” Several mouths clamped shut at that, and Brethany nodded in approval. “Mr. Weasley,” she nodded for him to continue.

“Until such a time as it is proven that the magic of any Muggleborn is the same as, or not harmful to the magic of the Wizarding World, Muggleborn witches or wizards will be largely ignored in Wizarding society and politics. While they are legally granted the rights and privileges of citizenship, they lack the knowledge of and power in the Wizarding World that would permit them any social standing there. As such, they are the lowest class and least recognized in the Wizarding World.” As the Weasley boy’s voice faded into silence, the tension in the room rose.

“Thank you, Mr. Weasley,” Brethany spoke briskly, “Take ten points for your house.” She walked back to her desk and picked up her own list of the questions. “I had initially thought that I could introduce another question into discussion today, but I think that this one has provided enough food for thought. Now, does anyone strictly disagree with either of the two answers?” For a long moment, the students simply exchanged glances, then several hands rose. The DADA teacher indicated one. “Miss…”

“Patil. I- doesn’t it seem as though both answers are correct? I mean, both answers are made up of facts…some of them are facts about speculations, but they both make sense, don’t they?” The Indian girl’s voice trailed off into uncertainty, but many faces showed agreement.

“Certainly,” Brethany nodded. “I don’t know if any of you noticed, but both answers left a lot to be desired. The second answer, in particular, made it clear that there was a lack of evidence to definitively support that particular position. Both answers in and of themselves, however, neither contradict nor confirm each other. We are left with simple speculation.” She grinned; none of them seemed to like that.

“As your first homework assignment, then, I want the two people at each desk to choose a question off this list.” The young woman banished a copy of the list to every desk. “Each pair of you will work together at research, one of you from the point of view of a Pureblood elitist and the other from that of a Muggleborn sympathizer. I want each pair to write six inches on the answers, three inches from each point of view. Keep in mind,” she warned them, “That for every offensive word I read, ten points will be deducted from the overall grade, and you will find yourselves in detention very quickly.” She smiled slightly as a few students blanched.

“Very well, then. If you need help for anything, feel free to visit me in my office. Also, fourth through seventh years have the same homework assignment, so you may compare notes so long as you do not copy from each other’s work. You are dismissed early, so don’t disrupt any other class.” There was an instant clambering for the door. “Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Weasley, and Mr. Potter, could I speak with you three for a moment?”

The three boys halted half way to the door, then moved towards her. “Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Weasley, I trust that there will be no great problem with my arrangement?” The two stared at her blankly for a moment, then cast glares at each other. “I see,” Brethany said softly, then sighed.

“The reason I put you two together is because you have a great deal in common,” she noted with humor the exchanged look of horror, “And I thought it would do you good to be forced to work together for once.” The young woman gave them her coldest stare. “The feud between the Weasleys and the Malfoys is well known, but the fact that your fathers hate each other has nothing to do with how the two of you act here at school.” The Weasley boy’s gaze dropped to the floor, but Malfoy just looked at her emotionlessly. Brethany sighed. “I put the two of you together, in front of everyone else, because you are the leaders of your generation here at Hogwarts.” Both boys gazed at her in shock and she smile grimly.

“You are both purebloods from old, influential families. You are both classmates in the newest group of warriors, politicians and artisans. It will be _your_ year that will be put down in the history books, because it is _your_ year that will be targeted for the coming war, whether as potential enemies or for potential allies, it doesn’t matter. You _will_ be targeted.” They both looked stunned at her blunt relation of facts. “I want your classmates to see you both as the leaders you should be. If that means that I have to contact your mothers to tell them that you need to be re-taught etiquette and social behavior, then I will gleefully do so, and take great delight in listening to the howlers I know would arrive at breakfast in the Great Hall.” Brethany took perverse pleasure in the undisguised horror on their faces.

“So,” she continued calmly, “The two of you will be working together, and will be sitting in front of the entire class to give _your_ answers, not ones _I_ have written out for you. Mr. Malfoy, if you must have further incentive to work well, then consider how your high rank among the Slytherins will be hurt if you do a sub-standard job.” The Slytherin boy gave a curt nod. “Mr. Weasley, just think how your fellow Gryffindors will treat you if you let a Slytherin best you. Use that Gryffindor pigheadedness, oh, excuse me, I meant _bravery_ ,” she corrected herself wryly, “To ensure that the task does not prove too daunting for you. Is that enough for you two to agree to not act like a couple of squabbling little boys rolling around in the mud?” That brought out winces and sullen nods from the both of them. Brethany nodded. “Good. You are dismissed.”

Malfoy instantly went for the door, but Ron Weasley hesitated, looking back at his best friend. “Go on, Ron, I’ll be along in a while,” Harry told him reassuringly. The redhead left immediately, obviously rankling a bit over what Brethany had said. 

“All right, I think you can come out now,” Brethany laughed as she approached the bookcase. Remus Lupin unfolded himself stiffly from the hiding place and stretched his arms and legs with obvious pleasure.

“I think I’m a little old to be doing that too often,” he spoke wryly as he rolled his shoulders to rid them of kinks.

Brethany chuckled. “No, I think your arms and legs are simply too long for such a small space back there. It’s a rather handy place though, isn’t it? Albus probably has one in every classroom.”

“He’d be more likely to use that invisibility charm of his, actually,” both adults were surprised to hear from the teenager. Harry grinned at their expressions. “He used it on me in my first year. Nearly scared me to death, it did.” They all chuckled.

“Somehow that doesn’t surprise me at all,” Brethany spoke wryly, then looked at Lupin. “So, Mr. Lupin, what hints, suggestions, and helpful comments can you give me?”

“Call me Remus, please,” the man smiled at her warmly. “As for advice, well, I think you’ve started out with a very good lesson. May I ask what the next question would have been?”

“‘What is the definition of the Dark Arts?’” she recited the second question. “It should bring about some interesting discussions. Here’s a copy of the entire list of questions, if you’d like it.” Remus thanked her and quietly read down the list with a growing smile.

“‘What are the origins of the Unforgivable curses, and why were they deemed as such?’

‘What magical creatures are deemed “Dark”, and why are they named so?’

‘What makes a wizard “go Dark”, and can such a process be halted?’

‘Can affinities towards either “Light” or “Dark” be changed over time?’

‘What makes a substance or spell “Dark” or “borderline Dark”?’

‘Why are such potions as the Cupiens Potion illegal, yet not deemed “Dark”?’” Lupin looked up from the parchment with a surprised expression. “This list is remarkable, Miss Lewis. You are correct; it should bring out some very interesting discussion.”

“Please call me Brethany, Remus.” She turned to Harry. “You may, as well, Mr. Potter, when we are not among other students. You and I will be seeing one another a great deal, after all.” At his questioning glance, her eyebrows rose in surprise. “The headmaster hasn’t told you yet, then? I will be training you in Occlumency.” When both of them stiffened, she looked at them in confusion. “Was there something Albus neglected to tell me?” Remus and Harry exchanged glances, the elder with sadness and the younger with a mix of guilt and anger.

“Professor Snape tried to teach me last year,” Harry told her bitterly. “It didn’t work out, and I ended up getting someone killed because I couldn’t shield my mind.”

Brethany looked at Remus, who was regarding the boy sadly. “Professor Snape, from what I understand, is a natural Occlumens,” she spoke quietly. “It’s not too surprising that he had a difficult time teaching you how to shield you mind. It would be like you trying to teach someone how to stand on one foot. For him it is something you do by instinct, not something you learn by instruction. He probably wasn’t very patient with you every time you failed, was he?”

The teenage boy snorted. “Snape? Patient? He hates me! Not that I blame him, though…” he muttered quietly, and Remus looked at him in surprise. “I looked in his pensieve and saw some things that…well, explained some things.”

“You looked in Professor Snape’s pensieve?” Brethany’s eyebrows rose. “Because of curiosity or because of anger?”

Harry looked down in shame. “A lot of both,” he admitted reluctantly.

“Well, congratulations, Harry, you survived the experience,” his teacher told him dryly. “You were an idiot, but really, all fifteen year old boys are idiots, so don’t feel like you’re alone in it.” Remus snickered quietly, and she grinned at him. “The question now is, will you do the mature thing?”

Harry grimaced. “Apologize, you mean? Do you think it would do any good?”

“Whether it does any good or any harm has very little to do with you,” Brethany spoke bluntly. “In the end, I think it would do a great deal of good, especially since Professor Snape will be the one testing your Occlumency every few weeks. I can’t do it because I’m quite a terrible Legilimens.” Harry groaned loudly and Brethany laughed.

“Merlin help me, then! I’ll do it, even though he’ll probably chew me up and spit me back out.”

Brethany chuckled. “If it will help, Harry, you might put things into perspective.” He looked at her curiously. “Who is scarier, Harry, Snape or Voldemort? Who do you respect more, the Dark Lord, or the man who at least halfway tried to teach you to protect your mind? I don’t know if the tales of Snape being a former Death Eater are true, but Dumbledore wouldn’t have kept him in Hogwarts for so long if he did not trust him. I happen to think that Snape is on our side, and if it is true that he was a Death Eater, I cannot think of a man I have more respect for. He has likely had to put up with just as much, if not more than you have, Harry. Can you really blame him for being so crabby?”

“‘Crabby’?” Both British males burst out laughing.

“You know what I mean! Grouchy, nasty, acting like a git! I lived in America for ten years, give me a break!” Brethany folded her arms and scowled. They kept laughing; the young woman sighed. “ _Tarantallegra_!” She smiled in satisfaction as they both began to jig. Remus calmly drew his wand and neatly cancelled the spell on himself, then watched as Harry slowly did the same. “Are the both of you quite finished now?” Brethany asked coolly, an eyebrow raised. The two males grinned at each other, then nodded. “Good. Now out! I have to prepare for the first year Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff class! Harry, Professor Snape doesn’t have any classes until after lunch, but he’s likely to be in his office. You’ve time enough before your next class, since I let you out early,” she told him pointedly.

He grimaced and she sighed. “I know that I may seem overbearing and bossy, but it’s a habit you pick up when you have as many younger siblings as I do. I have the tendency to adopt any stray child I find, especially teenage boys. You can argue and complain all you want, Harry, but you have now officially been adopted.” She grinned. “And feel free to rail at me any time. I’ve found that a good scream does a person a lot of good. It’s something I’m used to, actually.”

The teenage boy stared at her. “You are very odd, do you know that, Prof- I mean, Brethany?”

“Of course I know that,” Brethany spoke breezily, “I delight in being odd. It’s so much more fun to shock people than to be boringly normal.” She turned her back on them to head for her office. “What are you two still doing here? Out! Out! I have things to do!” Still laughing, the two exited the classroom. ‘Honestly,’ Brethany thought with a grin,‘ _men_!’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know my OC may seem too good to be true, with all those qualifications at her young age. In my defense, I personally know three young people who had real-life equivalent achievements by the same age; it is unusual, but not unheard-of. Just think, Albus has finally managed to hire a good one!


	3. The Joys of Teaching

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brethany deals with some sexual harassment, and Snape confronts her about her habit of meddling.

Brethany slumped in her chair, utterly exhausted. Would every day be like that, she wondered with a wince. Merlin, she hoped not!

“I see you managed to survive your first day with the little dunderheads,” Snape’s sneering voice echoed across the room, and the young teacher wearily lifted her head. The Potions Master strode into her classroom, surveying the room with ill-disguised contempt.

“’Survived’?” Brethany echoed dully, pulling herself upright with a quiet groan. “First I had the Gryffindor/Slytherin sixth years, then Ravenclaw/Hufflepuff first years, and finally the Gryffindor/Slytherin seventh years! Why does Albus insist on putting those houses together? Much as I enjoy a good scrap, having to put up with a bunch of teenagers who believe themselves to be each other’s mortal enemies is not something I want to do on a regular basis!” She cast the Slytherin head of house a glare. “So far, I have given three Slytherins and two Gryffindors detention, and collectively taken almost forty points from Gryffindor and Slytherin. I hope your house has been doing well in their classes, or Slytherin’s points will be in the negative.”

Snape scowled. “For their sakes, I hope they have as well. Why, may I ask, do so many of my house have detention on the first day of classes?”

Brethany snarled quietly. “Because your seventh years were not expecting a girl barely two years their elder to have a backbone when faced with three of them at once.” A small grin formed on her face. “I did warn them at the beginning of class that I had been trained for five years by Aurors.” She cast a thoroughly mischievous look at the other teacher. “Mr. Wilkins may have some trouble ‘getting it up’ over the next couple of months, but otherwise all three are physically intact.”

The Potions professor regarded her sharply. “And what did Mr. Wilkins do to deserve your personal wrath?” She smiled at him sweetly.

“I called him and his two cohorts into my office after class. When I assigned them detention, Mr. Wilkins said something particularly degrading about me, and attempted to sexually intimidate me.” Brethany grinned nastily. “I hexed him with _Cruciex ecstus_ , and had his friends help him back to their dormitory.” She smirked in satisfaction. “I’ll have to owl Dad about that; he taught me that hex when I was fourteen.”

“ _Cruciex ecstus_ ,” Snape repeated in a pained voice. “’Pain in place of pleasure’” he translated the Latin phrase, and Brethany laughed.

“Yes, that’s how Dad sounded when he taught it to me. You needn’t worry about Mr. Wilkins; it will only affect him when he attempts to,” she paused, searching for the correct term.

“Procreate?” Snape finished her sentence, an eyebrow raised. Brethany nodded, a small grin on her face. “Normally I would protest using such a punishment, but I am well aware of Mr. Wilkins’ reputation throughout Hogwarts. You have likely done the female population a great favor.”

The young woman before him sighed and buried her face in her hands. “Are they always like this?” she asked plaintively, peering up at him through her fingers.

“Yes,” Snape replied bluntly, “They are always so. They will not be nearly as much so in the future, simply because they understand that you _will_ punish them, but they do not change. It would take a complete change in their way of thinking to make them otherwise, and I doubt that you can bring that about.”

“I don’t,” Brethany spoke, her eyes sparkling with determination. “I think I can bring about that change, Professor Snape. I know that only a few will accept the change, but that is enough. That is all I want, just one or two students out of each house to work out the truth for themselves. All I have to do is ask the right questions. The answers don’t matter so much in the long run, it’s the questions that count. And Professor Snape,” the young woman looked boldly up at the Potions teacher, “I am very good at asking the right questions.”

The two stared at each other in silence for a long moment, then Snape gave a sharp nod. “That may be so,” he conceded quietly. “I have heard some of my students speaking of your questions. I hope you understand, however,” he continued sharply, “How much negative attention you could receive for this. No one likes change, especially when it deprives them of what they consider their rightful dues.”

Brethany leaned back in her chair lazily. “I know,” she agreed quietly. “And I will be careful of how I say certain things. While I am Gryffindor enough to continue saying what needs to be said regardless of the consequences, I am also Slytherin enough to know how and when to say those things.” She grinned at his sharp look. “My father was a Slytherin, you know, but incredibly blunt. My mother was a Hufflepuff, but she was always able to manage my siblings and I with a great deal of cunning. I think I received a great deal of each of them. It’s almost a shame that I can’t be sorted; I’d rather like to know where I would have ended up.” 

“Slytherin or Gryffindor,” came the swift answer, and Brethany looked at the Potions Master in surprise. “As you say, Miss Lewis, you are equal parts of the two houses. You are entirely too sly for Hufflepuff and too realistic for Ravenclaw.  A Hufflepuff would never have hexed Mr. Wilkins in such a manner-”

“You’ve obviously never met my mother,” Brethany muttered.

“-And most Ravenclaws would be appalled at how you question what is touted as absolutes in their precious books,” Snape sneered. “You are perhaps fortunate to not know what house you would have belonged to. No one automatically views you as being one thing or another based on a name having been attached to you.” Brethany considered that as the man turned toward the door.

“So, you consider me to be an honorary Slytherin, Professor Snape?” she asked, her grin apparent in her voice. Snape halted in the doorway.

“Merlin forbid that you would have been in my house,” he spoke dryly, then turned to look at her. “Your tongue knows no boundaries or restrictions; you would have put Slytherin points into the negative very quickly.” Brethany had to grin; he was likely correct. “You would have been a credit to either house, though both would likely have been eager to be rid of you.”

She was startled into a laugh. “I’m not certain whether to take that as a compliment or an insult.” Snape stared at her without emotion, and the young woman shrugged. “Thank you, I think.”

“You are welcome,” he said coolly as he turned to exit the room, then paused for a moment. “I am given to understand that you are partially responsible for Potter showing up in my office earlier today.” Brethany froze. Oh, dear…

“Yes, I am,” she replied uncertainly. “I merely gave him the boost that he needed. I’m sure that he would have done it on his own in time.” Snape scoffed in disbelief, and Brethany had to laugh. “All right, he probably wouldn’t have, but I really only gave him a little encouragement. I didn’t force him to go to you in any way, and whatever Mr. Potter said to you was from him alone. I merely provided the opportunity; he was the one who took hold of it.” The room was silent for a long moment as Brethany waited for a response. Finally, Snape simply grunted and swept out into the hall. Brethany sighed, but could not help grinning. Snape would be Snape…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always felt that Harry truly owed Snape an apology for sneaking that look into the pensieve, regardless of the situation he was left in. Yes, Snape's teaching methods are suspect at best, but let's face it: the youngsters seem to be better, wiser, more responsible people than the adults in Rowling's world. I find this to be both frustrating and unacceptable. Therefore, OC- and OOC-ness abound.


	4. The School Grapevine...and Vampires

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brethany is exposed to the dangers of adolescent imaginations and gossip. Her sense of humor leads her to, perhaps foolishly, feed the trolls. Snape helps.
> 
> Luna is amaaaaazing!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brethany may unwittingly insult Snape. Oh, dear.

Brethany was at the end of her rope. All day, students had been restless in her class, seemingly ignoring the lecture to stare at her in curiosity and horror. Two classes had passed in this manner, with only a few of the students rousing themselves enough from their examination of her features to answer any questions on the subject, currently being Dementors. The third period fifth-year Slytherin and Ravenclaw class sat in silent interest as they followed her every movement with uneasy eyes as she paced back and forth across the room, explaining what was known about Dementors.

A smack echoed through the room, causing the fifth-years to jump in alarm. Brethany stood next her desk, the pile of notes on the desk where she had dropped them. “All right, you lot, this isn’t funny any longer.” She watched in annoyance as backs straightened, throats were cleared, and faces blanked. “What is going on? You all are the third class today to not pay attention and stare at me.” She watched them shift uncomfortably behind their desks. “What, do I have dirt on my face,” she asked wryly, noting that the Slytherins were just as obviously nervous as the Ravenclaws were. That was bad…

“So, no one wants to tell me what’s going on? Miss Craffen?” The Slytherin girl flushed slightly, but shook her head. “Mr. Patterson?” The skinny Ravenclaw shrunk beneath her casual glare, shrugging helplessly. “Hmm. No one? No one would care to share what you all find so interesting about me?” The entire room was silent, then a dreamy voice spoke up from the back of the room.

“They believe you to be of Vampiric descent, Professor Lewis.” Brethany’s head jerked in the direction of the slender girl who had spoken.

“Miss Lovegood?” The girl looked up, her smoky gray eyes gazing at Brethany in dazed interest.

“Everyone believes that you have vampire blood. That’s impossible, of course, because you have a great deal of Snorkack characteristics, and they don’t interbreed with vampires.” This was said in such perfect seriousness that Brethany almost laughed. It was typical of the girl, Luna Lovegood, to be so dreamy about mythical creatures.

“Thank you for being so forthcoming, Miss Lovegood,” the Defense teacher spoke seriously, giving the Ravenclaw girl a small smile. “I’m afraid that I don’t have any relatives in the Snorkack family, although my brothers and I do bear many similarities to them. As to having Vampiric blood, well, I never meant for anyone here to discover that.” A murmur swept over the classroom, several of the students paling at the evident affirmation of their fears. Brethany contained her amusement as she gazed coolly over the class. “May I ask who divulged that particular fact to the entire school?” She watched as they exchanged nervous glances. “Such rumors should not be shared so carelessly,” the words practically purred over her tongue, and her predatory gaze caused many students to tremble.

“Perhaps now that I understand what is going on, I can demand your attention? Does anyone here know what happens during detentions with me?” They shook their heads in ignorance, and the young woman smirked. “Well, I would suggest that you all pay attention, or you will find out _personally_. I’m sure that you all know what vampires consume for nourishment…” The unspoken words hung in the air, and the majority of the students straightened up in their seats with exaggerated expressions of attentiveness. Seeing that she needed not continue, Brethany turned and picked her notes back up. “Now, Dementors, while somewhat similar to…”

The class continued in complete silence, those being called upon to answer doing so dutifully and in obvious fear for their necks. By the end of the class period, Brethany was caught between hilarity and sheer exasperation over the entire situation. Once she had dismissed the class, watching the rapidly retreating backs, she was left with the urge to both laugh and cry out of frustration. For a few minutes, she sat at her desk, head leaning on the stack of notes, until she finally gave a sigh and made to rise.

“I probably should not have done that,” the young teacher murmured to herself. “Bad idea, no matter how much fun it was.”

“No matter how much fun what was?” Brethany whirled around to see Harry in the doorway, watching her curiously.

“Oh, hey, Harry.” She rolled her eyes. “Have you heard a rumor about me, something to do with vampires?”

The teenage boy snorted. “You mean the one where you’re at least half vampire and have been seen flying through the halls in bat form at night? Or the one where you’re half vampire, half veela and half human and you lure the male fifth through seventh years into your rooms at night to suck their blood and do who knows what other depraved acts in your bedchamber?” He laughed at her expression. “Actually, several of the boys in Gryffindor said that they wouldn’t mind that second one too much.” Brethany stared at him for a long moment, then buried her face in her hands as she tried to hold back her mortified giggles.

“That’s _awful_!” she wailed in hysterical amusement, her shoulders shaking with laughter. “Who in the _world_ came up with that?!”

Harry shrugged. “I would imagine that it was the collective imagination of most of the girls and half the blokes in this school by the time it actually went all the way around.” He grinned. “Hermione says it’s a load of bunk, but Ron is just a little bit wary at the moment. I think he might fancy you just a little.” Brethany shut her eyes in horror.

“Merlin help me,” she whispered, then grimaced. “I think I might have just helped the rumor.” The teenage boy looked at her curiously. “One of the students finally told me what was going on in class just now.” She paused. “I, ah, neither confirmed nor denied that I did, in fact, have vampire blood in me. I may have hinted at a little blood-sucking during detention, as well…”

Harry stared at her in silence for a moment, then burst out laughing. “So _that’s_ what the Slytherins were talking about just a moment ago! Some of them were muttering about Dark Creatures during detention.” He shrugged. “I just assumed they were talking about detention with Hagrid in the Forbidden Forest.”

Brethany frowned. “I would have thought that they wouldn’t be quite so quick with the term ‘Dark’ after my classes.”

“Yeah, well, they are Slytherins,” Harry muttered, then grinned sheepishly under her sharp look.

“Two points from Gryffindor,” Brethany said quietly. “I would have thought you would know better than to say anything discriminating about another house, Harry. That is one of my rules, I think you will remember.” The teenage boy nodded, his eyes downcast. “Now then, how would you feel about a small prank on the school?” His face came up, filled with interest as he watched her transfigure a quill into a small bandage. Brethany grinned. “Come on, undo the top part of your shirt so I can get to your neck. We want to be able to see the bandage clearly.” Harry watched in good-humored silence as his teacher placed the bandage over the point where his pulse beat and sealed it there with a tap of her wand. “There. Maybe just a little bit of red seeping through, perhaps…” she muttered as she made the appropriate changes. “So Harry, how good of an actor are you?”

Ten minutes later, the buzz of gossip in the Great Hall died down slightly as Harry and Brethany appeared in the doorway. The teenager’s face was glazed slightly, and he had a goofy smile as he gazed up at the DADA teacher. Brethany on her part wore a satisfied smirk as she patted the boy on the shoulder. “Go on, Mr. Potter, I’m sure you’re quite famished after that little…incident. We wouldn’t want your blood to lose its…strength. That could be very bad for your health.”

“Yes, Professor,” Harry smiled at her dreamily. “Won’t you eat something as well?”

Brethany smiled widely, flashing teeth that seemed slightly pointier than normal to the entire hall. “Oh, that’s quite all right, Mr. Potter. I’ve a full belly after our little…snack.” She casually wiped a small smear of scarlet from the corner of her mouth. “I will remain here in the Great Hall, though, should you require any reassurance of my wellbeing.” Harry flashed her another adoring smile. “Be off with you, my boy.” She pushed him away gently, taking care that everyone saw her hand revealing the bandage on the teenager’s neck. “Feed well,” she purred, flashing her teeth again, her eyes sparkling gleefully into her partner-in-prank’s receiving gaze.

The entire hall went silent as Harry stumbled slightly to his seat, a drunken smile on his face. All eyes followed Brethany as she walked demurely up to the staff’s table and seated herself between Snape and McGonagall. For a long moment, no one dared to make a sound, then a gasp rose from the Gryffindor table when they caught sight of the traces of blood on Harry’s bandage. Brethany hid her face slightly behind her hair, struggling to contain her amusement. Really, it was too easy.

“Brethany,” Minerva asked quietly, “Why does Harry have a bandage on his neck?”

The DADA teacher smiled vaguely, revealing her pointy teeth once again. “Oh, there was a small…accident in my classroom a while ago. Nothing serious. I ensured that Mr. Potter did not bleed…overly much.” All the teachers eyed her warily. “Is there something on my face?” she asked innocently.

“Actually, yes,” Snape drawled, his eyes glittering in suspicion. “There is a drop of something red by your mouth.”

“Oh,” Brethany spoke distantly, reaching up to her mouth. A small smear of red came off onto her finger; she surveyed it with fascination for a moment before sucking it off her finger with every sign of enjoyment. “Thank you, Severus.” She flashed her fangs at him again and leaned back comfortably in her chair.

“Oh my,” Flitwick squeaked, then fell off his chair. The Headmaster smiled serenely and turned back to his food, leaving the rest of the teachers to stare at the young woman.

“Brethany…” Minerva paused, a strange expression on her face. “Why do you have fangs? And what in Merlin’s name is wrong with Mr. Potter?!”

It was too much; Brethany couldn’t help herself. Shoulders shaking with silent laughter, the young woman bowed her head so that the students could not see the tears of mirth streaming down her face. “Oh! You should have seen your faces!” She chuckled at their expressions, trying to dampen her own amusement. “I couldn’t help myself, you see. All my students today have been completely distracted by a rumor that has been floating around about me.”

“The rumor about you being of Vampiric descent, I assume?” Snape asked dryly, his expression bland. Brethany grinned at him and nodded.

“When I discovered this from my fifth-year Slytherin and Ravenclaw class, I have to admit that I may have perpetuated the rumor.” Her eyes twinkled. “Harry and I decided to have a little fun at lunch, which is why he is amusing himself by acting slightly intoxicated, and I am amusing myself by horrifying my colleagues.” She grinned. “Aren’t my fangs lovely?” Minerva struggled to hold her expression of disapproval firm. “I’ll let the rumors continue strong for another few days, and then I’ll teach them how to tell if a person is a vampire or not. Albus,” the DADA teacher turned to the Headmaster, “Would you allow me to bring in a vampire for that class? Or at the very least, a dhampyr?”

“Albus! You wouldn’t let her bring such a creature into a school!” Minerva was horrified. Brethany frowned in surprise.

“How are they to learn if they don’t know what they are looking for?” she asked rhetorically. “And it’s not such a danger as you seem to think, Minerva. There are several colonies of vampires in Scotland, alone, two of which are within a couple hundred miles of here.” This didn’t seem to make any of the teachers feel any better. “Have none of you ever met a vampire?” she asked curiously, and was slightly surprised to see that this was true of almost all of them.

“I have, of course,” Snape sneered slightly, “As has the Headmaster. The normal witch or wizard, however, is far more likely to avoid the vampire colonies out of fear and ignorance. The vampires here are much more civilized than those on the Continent, which are well-known for their violence and blood-lust.” Brethany frowned.

“So, all the students here are of the belief that vampires are bloodthirsty, dark creatures that will rip your heart out sooner than look at you?” she asked wryly, suddenly understanding the extreme reactions of the students. “Hmm.” She grinned suddenly. “Well, this should make my next class quite interesting, don’t you agree?”

“Brethany, you wouldn’t,” Poppy scolded, then took a closer at the young teacher’s face. “Oh, dear,” she sighed, “Yes, you would.” The school nurse sighed again. “Do try not to cause mass hysteria, dear. I have only so much calming potion in storage, and it takes several hours to brew.”

Snape sneered. “And I will not take time out of my day to brew more just for a lot of overwrought, ignorant dunderheads.”

Brethany couldn’t help herself; she laughed, loud and long, attracting the attention of the students from Harry. “Professor Snape, I can’t imagine that you have much time in which you could to do much for the ‘dunderheads’, apart from your head of house duties, Potions Master duties, and Potions professor duties.” There was immediately a long moment of silence, as the other teachers watched to see what Snape’s reaction would be. Brethany was half aware of the fact that she seemed to have said something wrong.

“As you say,” Snape nodded in bland agreement, his eyes glittering. “My days are full indeed here. I find a great deal to keep me busy.” With that, the Potions Professor turned back to his own plate. Brethany stared at him for a moment with concerned curiosity, then quietly finished her own meal with a small frown.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The horrible reality for Brethany:
> 
> She spends six hours each day teaching classes (three classes per day).  
> She spends six hours each day in preparation for the classes, and in grading. This is the minimum expected of Real Life teachers (not kidding; prep hours are to equal teaching hours in Real Life).  
> Say she spends eight hours sleeping, and one hour showering, dressing, etc.  
> That leaves her three hours for meals and free time.
> 
> If you ever wanted to be a teacher, be warned: it consumes your life.


	5. Field Trips Are Discussed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The idea of vampires is further explored.

“So, Albus, do I have your permission?” Brethany looked at the old man eagerly, her eyes following him as he moved to stroke his phoenix, Fawkes. Close by, the four Heads of House waited for the Headmaster’s answer as well.

“Are you honestly thinking of permitting _children_ to go among vampires?!” Pomona Sprout was aghast, and Minerva looked just as pleased. “Albus, that is- that’s _daft_!”

“It’s perfectly safe,” Brethany huffed, “And I only want to take the fifth through seventh years to the colony. It would be highly educational for them, and perhaps rid them of some of the ridiculous misconceptions about vampires that most of Britain seems to have about them.” Her gaze was slightly accusing. “Besides, there would be at least five other adults besides myself in my group.”

“Who might they be,” Minerva asked shortly, highly reluctant to endorse what was, in her mind, utter foolishness.

“Hagrid, for one,” the young DADA teacher began listing, “Miss Zabini’s father; Mr. William Weasley; Miss Hermes, who graduated from here some five years ago and is now, I believe, attending Wizarding University in Dublin. I have others on my list, but those are the only ones whom I have actually contacted.”

“You seem quite confident that your idea will be carried out,” Snape said sardonically, his black eyes glittering. Brethany grinned half-heartedly, then turned to Dumbledore once more.

“Master de Sordante would actually be quite pleased to host a field trip in his colony. Granted, much of his eagerness is because of the political ramifications it would have, but that is just further guarantee that no one would be harmed there. Pierre de Sordante is too much of a politician to allow such an opportunity to be ruined in _his_ territory.”

“He is a _vampire_ ,” the Head of Hufflepuff exclaimed in disbelief. “How can you speak as though he were just an ordinary _man_!”

“Madam Sprout,” Brethany spoke stiffly, “Pierre _is_ a man. He is egotistical, obnoxious, and condescending to women of both Vampiric and mortal descent, but I know many men who are like that. My father vouches for his trustworthiness so long as I carry a large enough purse into his colony, which makes Master de Sordante just as human as Minister Fudge.” There was a small moment of silence as the young woman thought over what she had just said. “We can just pretend that I didn’t say that,” she said softly, flushing slightly even as she tried not to grin at the amused expressions of the other teachers.

“I do not think that it would be wise to permit the fifth through seventh years to take such a trip,” Dumbledore spoke slowly, and Brethany’s jaw stiffened visibly. “However, the two upper years might be permitted to go, provided they are either of age or have the consent of their guardians.” His blue eyes twinkled at the DADA professor’s obvious excitement. “And I would like Severus to accompany you, if at all possible.” The Potions Master instantly moved to protest, but the Headmaster gestured for him to be still. “This is to provide reassurance to parents that there will be qualified teachers there to handle any dangers that may arise. The people you have contacted already are very well chosen, and I am sure that the students can be assured of their safety.”

“Of course, Albus,” Brethany nodded, struggling to contain herself from bouncing in glee. Really, it was almost exactly what she had expected.

“What sort of reactions do you think the students will have to such a proposal,” Minerva raised a curious eyebrow in sarcastic question. “They will think you are mad to even think of such a thing!” She threw her hands in disgust. “Pomona is correct, Albus; you _are_ daft!”

“Of course, Minerva,” the old wizard agreed with her calmly. “Would you like a lemon drop, my dear?”

The Transfiguration professor stared at the offered sweets disdainfully. “Thank you, Albus, but I must go. I have work to do, and I may as well begin writing apologies to parents for permitting their children to be devoured by _vampires_.” She stormed out of the Headmaster’s office, closely followed by Pomona Sprout.

Brethany seated herself with a huff, alternately excited and annoyed by the responses to her proposal. “I would have thought Minerva would be slightly less prejudiced about magical peoples,” she muttered quietly. “After all, she taught Remus Lupin, and likes him just fine, not to mention Hagrid and his heritage.”

“Lupin is not typical of what most well-known werewolves are,” Snape spoke disdainfully. “And very few would consider vampires and werewolves to be ‘magical peoples’. The term is Dark Creatures. As for Hagrid, his heritage is completely ignored or denied by the majority of those who deign to think of him at all.”

Brethany frowned. “Only here in Europe. Fortunately, in America, weres and the undead are not viewed in such a bad light. Actually,” she continued brightly, “Vampires are usually not viewed in much light at all. They tend to come out only at night, you know.” Her grin wilted slightly under Snape’s vitriolic look. “I know, that was a truly bad joke, but my mouth sometimes gets the better of myself before I have time to censor it.”

“Indeed.” Snape’s acerbic tone spoke volumes. Dumbledore watched this altercation with a small smile, absently stroking Fawkes’ brilliant plumage.

“So, Brethany, when do you plan on making the trip?” Filius Flitwick asked curiously, twiddling his beard. Brethany grinned, once again high on her excitement.

 “Over Christmas break,” she bounced on her feet gleefully as she spoke. “The students who come would arrive back here on the twenty-ninth, and we would be back on the fifth. I want the students to get a chance to see how some people observe the New Year.” Snape raised an eyebrow.

“With a great deal of bloodshed and disgusting practices, I presume,” he sneered, halting in surprise when the young woman laughed.

“Oh, please, Professor Snape, spare me the melodrama of normal wizarding misconceptions,” she said scornfully. “Wizards have lost a great deal of the old traditions they once held to. Many of the elder Vampires, however, have never ceased those practices, and teach the traditions to the younger generations of their kind. As for the rites of the New Year, well, you will just have to wait and see when you come on the trip.” Brethany grinned at the scowl the Potions professor sent at her. Oh, it would be amusing, indeed, to see Snape pitted against the scathing sarcasm of a vampire with centuries’ worth of experience. Amusing, indeed.

*************************

“Professor Lewis! Professor Lewis!” The cry echoed down the stone corridors, reaching clearly to Brethany’s ears as she sat in her office grading tests. Her head whipped up, and her hand reached reflexively for her wand, then relaxed. That had been an exclamation of excitement, not of fear or anger. In fact, that had been the voice of an extremely excited teenage boy, a sound she was quite familiar with. True to her thoughts, a quick knock had barely sounded on her door before she had two energetic and eager teenagers in her office, both talking excitedly at the same time.

“Wait, you two, hold on! I can’t listen to you both at the same time!” Brethany laughed as the two boys quieted slightly. “Now, _what_ are you both trying to say?” Harry and his best friend, the Weasley boy, exchanged glances.

“Is it true that you’re taking the sixth and seventh years to visit a vampire colony,” Harry asked eagerly, and the redhead beside him fastened large brown eyes on their teacher.

“Well, yes,” Brethany told them, somewhat surprised, “But I haven’t announced it yet, and I’ve only talked about it with Professors Snape, Sprout, Flitwick and McGonagall. As well as the Headmaster, of course. How did you two find out about it?” The boys exchanged slightly guilty glances. “All right, Harry, who did you eavesdrop on,” Brethany asked in amusement, recognizing the expression. “Let me guess, you were listening to your Head of House talking, or rather hollering at Professor Snape about this trip.” The two exchanged glances again.

“Actually,” Harry started slowly, “It wasn’t us. Hermione and Neville were in Greenhouse 7, and they heard Professor Sprout talking with Professor McGonagall. You are right, though, neither of them were very happy about it.” Brethany had to chuckle. No, she was quite aware of just how unhappy Minerva and Pomona were with her.

“Cor,” Ron Weasley breathed in wonder, staring at her. “You really _are_ taking them to a vampire colony!”

“Not ‘them’, Mr. Weasley,” the DADA teacher corrected him, “You will be coming as well. You are a sixth year, after all. Your older brother Bill will be coming as well to help keep the peace, so I’m quite certain your parents should have little problem with you going on a small field trip.” The gangly boy paled beneath his freckles, obviously uncomfortable with the idea of meeting vampires. “Harry, the Headmaster has taken it upon himself on behalf of your guardians to provide permission to come on the trip. Miss Granger, as I understand it, will reach her majority before then, and will not need parental permission, so I fully expect all three of you to sign up for the trip.” Harry nodded thoughtfully. “Did you want to know something else, guys? I have to grade these tests, and I doubt that you really want your sister’s bad grade on your head, Mr. Weasley.” Both boys nodded, small grins on their faces.

“Can I just peek at-” Harry started mischievously, reaching for the pile of papers. Brethany swatted at his hand.

“None of that! Ah-ah! Harry, get your filthy paws out of Miss Lovegood’s papers! Out! Out, both of you! I’ll see you at supper, and the announcement about the trip will be made tomorrow in class. Don’t dare tell anyone else, now! I want it to be a surprise. Tell Miss Granger and Mr. Longbottom not to share the news around, would you? Now, out!”


	6. Sick Days and Visitors...and Presents!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Of course it would be impossible to get through a term without some kind of mishap...

The entire school was in an uproar over the news. Once the plans for the trip were announced during Brethany’s classes, word spread throughout all seven years and four houses. Brethany herself was swamped with students, all questioning her about the trip and her sanity, sometimes only the latter. After the first few days of utter chaos in both her classroom and office, she simply refused to talk about the trip to those who asked about it, stipulating that they read the flier that she had posted on the bulletin board. Though there were still two months left before the trip, there were already over a dozen names posted on the list to go, and almost as many Howlers from parents.

Yes, the parents had not initially been very fond of the idea. Most of the scathing letters were from horrified mothers who were reacting to excited letters from their children, letters which had contained almost no valid information for the parents to go on. At last, Brethany had gone to the Headmaster, asking for the names of all the parents of the sixth and seventh years, so that she could send information packets to the families of all those eligible to go on the trip. It took some time, and some correspondence between herself and a few of the more horrified parents, but the hubbub eventually died down to a dull roar, and her Defense classes went back to normal.

Normal, currently, was dueling, using primarily the ‘household’ charms they had learned in first year. It was chaotic, and loud, and a lot of fun for the sixth year Slytherin-Gryffindor class. Brethany had paired the students up according to their desk-mates, a system which was fairly normal for them by that time, and there were almost two dozen teenagers duking it out in the center of the room.

“Mr. Zabini! Keep your eyes on your opponent, not on anyone else! Miss Parkinson, don’t be afraid to use embarrassing charms on Miss Granger! Mr. Weasley, use something other than the levitation charm, for Merlin’s sake! I know you know other charms, so be more creative! Mr. Malfoy, I won’t take off points if you honestly try to disarm Mr. Weasley. Use _Inflamare_! Mr. Weasley, put it out with a water charm! Very good, you two! Keep going! Mr. Thomas…” and so it went. Each pair of students was given individual advice and encouragement, and occasionally, they were called upon to demonstrate some particular set of charms for the rest of the class. At the end of the class, Ron Weasley was asked to explain one way to defeat a troll using only a simple _Leviosa_ charm, a story which caused several impressed looks, although well hidden from the Slytherins.

Immediately after that class, Brethany ran into her office for a bolstering cup of tea before her first years’ class, which that day involved the wonderful art of the disarming spell and the most basic shields involved in defense. Much as she loved teaching, sometimes she just wanted to frighten the little brats until they cried for their mums. No, not brats, not really…well, they were just as much brats at that age as she herself had been, anyway. They weren’t really all _that_ bad. When in small amounts. For very short time periods. And after they’d had the _Silencio_ hex put on them. Preferably, they would only appear when their hormones had not taken over their measly little brains, and even then only after she herself had consumed a half dozen cups of coffee. _Why_ had she taken this teaching position, when she could be an Auror, chasing felons around the U.S. with a tracking charm, in the pouring rain, using relatively useless invisibility charms while trying to avoid the more disreputable parts of the country? Ah, yes, right. The bad pay, the bad hours, the bad company, the bad coffee, and the horrible management. Merlin, she really hated bureaucracy at work.

Briefly, Brethany wondered what was causing her bad mood, but was forced to drag herself back into the classroom before she could examine her thoughts more closely. Two class periods later, she finally permitted herself to collapse at her desk, irritated with herself, her students, her fellow staff members, and the world at large. For a long moment, the young woman simply slumped there, then groaned as she forced herself to sit up.

“Merlin hang it all, I hate this,” Brethany muttered to herself as she stumbled into the office. Distractedly, she looked at herself in the mirror on the wall, then halted in shock. “Merlin, I look like crap.” It was true; her eyes were bloodshot, she had bags under her eyes, and her face was pinched and pale. In truth, she looked like a hippogriff had chewed her up and spit her out without any regard to where she landed. Dully, the young teacher shook her head; she was sick, and she knew it. There was no getting around it. “I suppose I need to go see Poppy,” she told her reflection, and examined her face once again. “You really do look like crap,” she repeated with shallow humor. “And Merlin, do I feel like it, too.”

“You look like something the dog dragged in!” came the mirror’s helpful response. Brethany growled, but had to agree.

The trip up to the infirmary was dreadful. Brethany’s mouth tasted of cardboard, and her head persisted in spinning at inopportune times, causing her balance to seriously deteriorate on the stairs and through the halls. It was not until Minerva McGonagall suddenly appeared at her side with an expression of concern that Brethany realized that she had been standing motionless, staring stupidly at the infirmary door for quite some time.

“Brethany? Are you well, dear?” If Brethany had contained the energy needed to jump in surprise, she would have, but as it was, all she could do was loll her head back to look at the older woman with glazed eyes. “Oh, dear, you look dreadful.”

“Thank you for that stunning bit of…” Brethany ran out of air half way through the sentence, inhaled in embarrassed hurry, then finished, “observational skill. Hello, Minerva, how are _you_?”

“Better than you, I dare say,” the Transfiguration teacher spoke dryly, pulling the younger woman upright. “You were going to see Poppy, of course?” Barely waiting for a response, she hustled Brethany into the infirmary and onto an empty bed. “Poppy! _Poppy_!”

“Goodness gracious, Minerva, what’s happ-” the matronly nurse stopped short when she saw Brethany on the bed. “What’s happened here, then? Not an accident in class, I hope?”

Brethany chuckled wearily. “No, just a good old-fashioned sick day, Poppy. I don’t know what I’ve got, or where I got it from, but it’s meaner than Professor Snape before he’s had his coffee.”

“And precisely how would you know what such a state would be like?” Brethany groaned at the cool question, shutting her eyes against the glare she knew would be directed at her.

“Professor Snape, I wasn’t aware you were there,” she muttered dully, feeling horribly like a naughty child.

“Obviously not,” came the chilly reply. There was a short pause. “What have you done with yourself, Miss Lewis? You look like something Filch’s infernal cat dragged in.” Brethany groaned again, turning to bury her face in the bed.

“Don’t know,” the muffled answer came. “Tired all day; couldn’t eat the noon meal; stupid first years couldn’t get the shield spell right, and gave me a headache; looked in the mirror and it laughed at me. Stupid mirror. Stupid students. Stupid school. Stupid, stupid sickness.”

The other staff members exchanged glances. “I’ll go warn Albus that he’ll likely need to find a replacement for tomorrow’s DADA classes,” McGonagall said quietly. “Brethany, don’t worry about a thing. I’m sure that Poppy will have you fixed up in no time.” The Transfiguration teacher gave the other woman a long glance. “Tie her to that bed if you have to, Poppy. I know what Doxypox looks like, and she shouldn’t be up for at least a couple days.”

Brethany groaned from the bed, her face now flushed and damp. “Oh, I am going to scream,” she muttered. “Poppy, I refuse to stay in this bed for two days; you can’t make me! It’s just a headache and some dizziness. I probably haven’t eaten enough today, and it caught up with me. Of course that’s it. Not enough food. What else would it be? Can’t be Doxypox, I’m not old enough. Why’s it called Doxypox, Poppy? Did I catch it from a real doxy, or does the virus itself look like a doxy? I know! It makes the people who catch it be as grouchy as a doxy! Or-”

“ _Silencio_!” Severus Snape smirked slightly as he put his wand away. “It is most assuredly Doxypox, Miss Lewis. No other illness that I am aware of causes a relatively intelligent person to turn into a witless babbler.” The young DADA teacher blinked in silent consternation. Through the haze that had taken over her brain, Brethany grinned in sudden pleasure. Snape had said she was intelligent...sort of.

“Severus, don’t torment the poor girl,” Poppy scolded the man. “You know that anyone would have a difficult time thinking while sick with the Doxypox. If I remember right,” she leveled an amused glare at the Potions Master, “You were quite the talker yourself when you caught it several years ago. Went on for hours about the pretty colors of the ceiling and how you were going to make a potion the exact same color.” She grinned as the man scowled in denial. “Oh, yes, you did, Severus. You can ask Albus; he was the one who brought you in to see me, with you singing the major ingredients for common potions to the tune of ‘Danny Boy’.” Minerva snorted with laughter as the male teacher huffed and whirled out of the infirmary. “Oh, dear, I think I may have insulted his pride,” Poppy said airily, then sniffed. “It won’t hurt him to have it deflated slightly.”

“Yes, Poppy,” McGonagall chuckled, then sobered. “See what you can do with her. Albus and Severus can take over Defense for the next few days, but it would be easier all around if you can get her back on her feet and functional as soon as possible. Doxypox is not catching to children, thank Merlin, so we are likely not in danger of an epidemic. She will be receiving quite a few visitors, I’m certain.” Both women looked down at the teacher on the bed. “She has done well,” Minerva spoke quietly, “Better than any of us, except perhaps for Albus, ever expected. She will be irreplaceable when she leaves.”

“She is the only Defense teacher that Severus ever expressed approval of,” the school nurse nodded, awe plain on her face. “Don’t worry, Minerva. She’ll be on her feet in no time.”

“Good. I hate to think what her class will do without her there to mediate. We will have our hands full.”

Pain was the first thing Brethany felt as she approached consciousness. Soft moans escaped her as she shifted in the bed, struggling to find a comfortable position. A cool hand on her brow startled her into stillness, even as a cheery voice began to speak.

“There you are, dear! I was wondering when you would decide to wake up. Open those eyes, Brethany, and let me see how you look.” Brethany groaned and turned her face away. “Now, none of that! Open those eyes this second, young lady, or I’ll do it for you!” Grudgingly, the young woman squinted up at the nurse. “Good,” Poppy declared sharply, “But you’ll have to do better than that. Open them, dear. All the way, please.” Brethany groaned as she opened her eyes.

“Poppy, I hate you,” she growled out dully. “Hate you, hate you, hate you forever.”

“Yes, dear, I’m sure you do,” the nurse returned blithely. “Can you focus on me, or is everything blurred?”

“Blurred,” Brethany croaked out. “You have three eyes, and your mouth is riding up the side of your chin.” Poppy chuckled. “’S not funny,” the unfortunate on the bed slurred slightly. “The room is moving, too. Poppy, what’s wrong with me?”

The matronly nurse clucked worriedly. “You have Doxypox, dear, and a rather bad case of it at that. You won’t be teaching for a few more days, but I should have you right as rain before long. Come on, now, Brethany, I have several potions for you to drink.” Brethany groaned as Poppy helped her to sit up.

“Doxypox? But I’m not old enough to have Doxypox! My parents didn’t get it until they were almost thirty!”

Poppy glowered down at her patient. “Constant stress and lack of sleep will bring it on earlier in life, Brethany, and according to what I understand, you haven’t slowed down in life since you were thirteen years old! You just finished your double Masteries, and then you came straight here to teach. You are worn out and worn down, and so the Doxypox caught you off-guard. It did the exact same thing with Severus when he was twenty. Drink this,” she all but shoved several potions down the younger woman’s throat. “Don’t go to sleep, now,” the nurse ordered sternly. “I need you awake so I can run a diagnostic spell over you.”

Brethany struggled to hold her eyes open as the older witch ran her wand over the length of her body. Poppy muttered softly to herself throughout the scan, nodding and making approving or worried sounds for her different discoveries. Brethany, having no idea exactly what any of it meant, simply concentrated on remaining awake and mostly conscious. It wasn’t easy. Her entire body ached in a manner reminiscent of the state she was usually in after several days of intense workout sessions, and nothing would remain still. The world swayed and tilted around her in dizzying motion. and she groaned as her stomach moved with it.

"Nauseous," Poppy asked sympathetically. "Here, dear, drink this." She poured yet another potion down her patient's throat. Brethany groaned.

“Why can’t anyone come up with flavoring that won’t affect potions? Severus could, I’m certain. He’s a brilliant Potions Master, did you know that, Poppy?” The nurse raised an amused eyebrow as the younger woman rambled on. “He really is a wonderful man,” Brethany continued, a rather drunken smile on her face. “Very clever; do you know he can argue with me for hours, and I have more fun than with my brothers? Not many people can argue with me and win, Poppy, but Severus can. Oops, I forgot I was supposed to call him ‘Professor Snape’. I call him ‘Severus’ inside my head, though, why can’t I call him that out loud? He told me to, that’s why, in that lovely, sexy voice of his. Don’t you think he has a sexy voice, Poppy?”

“I think that the fennel and the dragon scales in the potions I just gave you are making you intoxicated,” Poppy told her in amusement. “I always look forward to giving that combination to the teachers here, dear. I’ve found that it’s best to have a great deal of blackmail material, just in case I have to convince you to cooperate with me.”

“I’m not drunk,” the young DADA teacher whispered in affront. “I didn’t even get to drink anything. No fair making me drunk without getting to drink, Poppy. That’s just mean…” her voice faded away as her eyes drifted shut in sleep. Poppy smirked as she watched her reluctant patient swiftly drift off.

**************************

“She does look dreadful, doesn’t she?”

“What is she sick with, Remus?”

“The Doxypox. It’s a magical disease that hits only adults, usually in their early thirties or forties, after their magical core has completed the maturing process.”

Brethany frowned slightly as she began to awaken. Who was talking so loud? Her head hurt…

“But Brethany’s only twenty! Why does she have it?”

“Brethany has been using her magic much, much more than most other witches or wizards, Harry. The more a person uses his magic, the faster their magical core matures. It’s common for Aurors and Healers to contract Doxypox earlier than normal, partially because their magical core matures from the constant use, and partially because of the large amounts of stress involved in what they do.” Both people- men- were silent after that.

“Will she be sick for much longer? We all miss her in class,” the younger voice sounded slightly put out, as though Brethany had chosen to have the sickness hit. The elder man chuckled.

“Doxypox takes a few days to recover from, Harry.” _Ah_ , Brethany thought, _Harry. Of course._ “And it won’t be fun for her, believe me. I vividly remember when I contracted it twelve years ago, when I was twenty-three. I was in France at the time, and thankfully had a roof over my head.” He paused, his voice slightly strained. “The Doxypox hit during the full moon.” Brethany winced mentally in sympathy.

“I’m sorry, Remus,” Harry’s voice was disturbingly adult, as though he fully realized and understood the pain the older man had suffered and survived.

“Thank you, Harry,” Remus spoke quietly, accepting the comfort the younger man offered. Neither spoke for a long moment, and Brethany decided to let them know that she was awake.

 “Wngyuhshplzzz?” The two males jumped at the sound, and Brethany groaned. That was supposed to come out slightly less…garbled.

“Brethany!” The DADA teacher groaned again as she opened her eyes slowly. All she could see was a light blur, punctuated here and there with darker blurs, two of which quickly became bigger as Harry and Remus moved toward the bed. “How are you feeling?” Hands moved to help her sit up. Gradually, Brethany’s vision cleared, and two concerned faces became clear.

“Rmsss…” Brethany grimaced at the garbled word, and the two males grinned.

“Htyubs,” she growled at them half-heartedly, and Remus laughed, having caught the gist of what she was saying.

“Here,” the werewolf brought a goblet of water over to the bed, a straw hanging over the rim. “Drink slowly.” Brethany glared, but obeyed, sucking the cool liquid gradually down her throat. “Better?”

“Yeah,” she replied hoarsely, swallowing several times. “Better. What are you two doing here?”

Harry grinned at her. “Watching you sleep,” he answered cheekily. “It can be recommended for those who have entirely too much excitement in their lives.”

“I’m so happy that I could provide you with some much-needed boredom, then,” the woman teacher said dryly. “Perhaps some extra homework, as well, just to ensure you get your ‘daily dose’.” Student and teacher stared expressionlessly at each other, then cracked up, laughing. For several seconds, the two looked at each other, giggling hysterically, until Brethany began coughing. Once her breathing went back to normal, the three sat in silence, simply looking at each other.

“Well, this is slightly awkward,” Brethany quipped hoarsely, her fingers tugging at the covers. “You both seem rather speechless. Is it my fantastic beauty that is stunning you, or is my bed-head really that horrific?”

Remus smiled, a hint of wistfulness in the expression. “I cannot speak for Harry, of course, but I was just thinking that you remind me a great deal of Harry’s mother.” Both young people looked at him in surprise, and the werewolf smiled.

“I do?” Brethany frowned in bemusement. “Well…I’m assuming you mean in temperament, then, because I know I don’t look anything like Lily Potter.” Harry nodded in agreement.

“Well, true, you don’t have green eyes or red hair, and your nose is much nicer,” Remus’ eyes twinkled as Brethany choked on a laugh, “But you have the same stubborn tilt of your head when you’ve been challenged in some way, the same way of crossing your arms when you’re aggravated, and the same exact gleam in your eye when you are arguing with Severus Snape.”

“Mum didn’t like Snape?” Harry asked in surprise. “I thought that she…” he trailed off slightly under his teachers’ looks of surprise. “Er…”

“Oh, your mother was good friends with _Professor_ Snape, Harry, but she still argued with him. It was a…pastime, of sorts.”

“You mean to say that you haven’t seen or heard of my arguments with Severus, Harry?” Brethany laughed. “I would have thought the entire school would know about them by now, we’ve done it enough times.”

“I have contrived to be discreet when responding to your carrying-on,” a smooth voice spoke from the door, and all three jumped guiltily. Severus Snape entered the hospital wing with an expression of distaste, several small packages in his hand.

“Oh, presents!” Brethany grinned widely, trying to push herself up into a higher sitting position.

“Let me help you,” Remus spoke up, moving quickly to her side. With the man’s hands helping to lift her, she managed to sit almost straight up, with several thick pillows supporting her.

“Must you put your paws all over her in such a manner, Lupin?” Snape’s tone was sharp. “Such repulsive displays should be saved for privacy, I should think,” he added in disgust. Harry opened his mouth to begin shouting, but was deterred by the identical smiles of mischief on the other two adults’ faces.

“Why, Severus,” Remus began, moving to place a hand on the other man’s shoulder. “Are you jealous?” Brethany finished, a bright smile on her face.

The Potions Master shrugged off the werewolf’s hand, scowling at the two. “Your parents portkeyed these into the Headmaster’s office,” he said brusquely, ignoring the question. He tossed the packages onto Brethany’s bed, then stalked off, his robes swirling ominously behind him. Remus and Brethany exchanged small grins before breaking out into chuckles.

“What do you suppose my parents sent me?” Brethany wondered, picking up the largest of the packages and shaking it languidly. She was beginning to feel tired, and hungry, and just a little crabby, as well. Granted, she felt much better than previously, but she obviously was not completely mended.

“Well, go on and open them,” Harry urged, his own curiosity plain on his face. Brethany grinned, and began to tear through the brown paper.

The first package yielded a basic care package consisting of woolen socks, scarf, and cap, a dozen of her mother’s ginger cookies(still warm), a pint of homemade blackberry preserves and several freshly sharpened eagle-feather quills. The second package, while smaller, proved to hold more, for when opened it revealed half a dozen books, shrunk with a charm.

“Is that _Hutchinson’s Guide to Dark Creatures_?” Remus was practically drooling. The younger woman watched in amusement as the werewolf caressed the miniaturized book. “This must be at least four hundred years old!”

“That’s Dad’s edition,” she told him with a grin. “I owled him for it last week. I wanted the students to have a fairly reliable source to find stuff about vampires out in.” The teacher paused, a slightly befuddled expression on her face. “I must be more tired than I thought. That last sentence did not come out right at all.”

“What’s this?” Harry pulled out a small, slender book with no title and flipped through it. “There’s nothing inside.”

“Oh, that’s my old journal,” Brethany informed him, taking the book. “Everything that you write in it gets stored so that you never have to buy another book. If you want to read past entries, you just press your thumb to the front page and say what entries, by date, you want to see. It’s keyed to my thumbprint, so no one else can read it. Handy old thing,” she spoke fondly.

“Oh,” Harry frowned. “It sounds similar to Tom Riddle’s diary.” He grimaced. “I wonder if Ginny’s ever seen something like this before.”

“These sorts of diaries are fairly common over in the U.S.,” Brethany pointed out. “They’re likely just as much so over here.” She paused. “Who is Tom Riddle? The name seems familiar.” She watched the two males exchange glances. “Order business?” she guessed, and was rewarded with expressions of surprise. “Albus says that to me quite often. ‘Excuse me, Brethany, I have some Order business to take care of.’. ‘You’ll pardon an old man his secrets, my dear, but that is an Order secret and Order business.’” The young woman growled in annoyance. “I know he’s just doing it to get me riled up enough to challenge him on it, but really! If he wants me in the Order of the Phoenix, all he has to do is ask me!”

“Ah, but Brethany, I have been waiting for _you_ to ask _me_ ,” Albus Dumbledore’s cheery voice spoke up from the door.

Brethany sighed in resignation, hiding her surprise behind her amusement. “I suppose I should have been expecting you to be there. Hello, Albus, how has the Defense class been for you?” she asked dutifully, lolling her head back against the pillows in order to see the old wizard. “My students have been good for you, I hope.” She raised an eyebrow at Harry, who grinned.

“Oh, yes, very good,” the teenage boy reassured her. “Professor Dumbledore has been very…interesting.” His voice was full of restrained laughter.

“What have you been teaching my students, Albus?” Brethany asked tiredly, then quickly amended, “Never mind, I don’t want to know.” Remus laughed quietly at her small shiver of apprehension.

“Several more packages just arrived for you,” the Headmaster spoke jovially, his eyes twinkling bright. “I’m beginning to think my office is a delivery station. Fawkes is unhappy with me, I’m afraid, but he is rather temperamental during his molting period.”

“More presents?” Brethany’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. What on earth… Dumbledore set the three packages on the bed, and the sick young woman chuckled. “Oh, I see. They’re from my brothers.” She gestured to the labels on the brown paper reading ‘ **TOXIC, handle with care** ’, ‘ **This Side Up When Portkeying; Reverse When Apparating.** ’, ‘ **Handle With Care: Spontaneous Combustion May Occur** ’, ‘ **Do Not Open Without Secret Code** ’, and lastly, ‘ **Beware of Grape With Wooden Mallet** ’. Brethany proceeded to tear into the smallest package with an insane cackle of delight.

“Are those…potions?” Harry asked in confusion. Brethany’s head popped up, an expression of unholy glee on her face.

“Oh, you’ve no idea,” she purred out with delight. “My brothers like to experiment with

potions…some of their best ideas were based on some joking remark someone has said…they make the _best_ prank potions _ever_. They turned the entire house into gingerbread last Christmas, and then had the gall to blame it on my sister and I.” The young woman’s grin threatened to split her face. “Mom pulled the old couch and sibling-Inquisition trick, and they confessed.” She grinned at the men’s befuddled expression. “She sat us all down on a couch, stuck us there with a sticking hex that none of the rest of us know the counter to, and then left us there until we’d pretty much verbally beaten the truth out of the guilty party. Works every time.” 

“You have an odd family,” Harry remarked wistfully, then grinned. “Maybe as odd as the Weasleys.”

“It’s a large family thing,” his teacher replied distractedly, tearing into the second package. “You have _got_ to be _kidding_ me,” she spoke flatly, staring down into the small cardboard box. “I’m going to kill them; kill them dead.”

“What is it?” Harry craned his head over Brethany’s shoulder. “What _is_ that?” The plain disgust in the teenager’s voice startled Remus out of his book. Even Dumbledore joined in staring down at the box’s contents.

It was a mass of writhing, gray wings, and tiny squeaking noises occasionally escaped the confines of the box. Brethany let out an annoyed sigh and reached into the box. Grimacing slightly, she lifted the bundle of writhing creatures out by invisible strings. As expected, there were other small bundles beneath, also wrapped in invisible netting.

“Fresh potion ingredients,” she finally explained to the curious males. “They _know_ I hate bats, so of course they put them at the top of the box.”

“That’s definitely as fresh as they get,” Harry groaned. “They expect you to _kill_ all those yourself?” Brethany had to laugh.

“Oh, they’re not for me,” she chuckled. “I’m afraid I’ve never had any particular affinity for making potions, though I’m not bad at it. There’s a certain similarity between Potions and Wand-Making…oh, look, they sent me some new cores, too!” The young woman delicately lifted out a small wooden box. “Oh, I like this box. Very nice, very strong nullifying characteristics…they’re getting extra Christmas presents for this.” She suddenly squealed in excitement. “They sent me a collection of woods? I _love_ them! I can finally make that wand!” The three males watched in bemusement as the young woman began mumbling over the packages.

“What is all this?” Poppy’s sharp voice entered the room before the nurse did. “Brethany! You should be resting! What are you all doing in here?! I have sick patients here! Out! Out!” The three males fled, looking properly chastised, rather as though they’d been caught stealing from the cookie jar.

Poppy then turned on her patient. “As for you, Brethany! You know you should be resting! You’ll have a relapse!” The nurse caught sight of the young teacher’s tired grin, and huffed in annoyance. “You are entirely too much like those two boys that just left. You three don’t even have to _look_ for trouble; it simply finds you.” Brethany affected an innocent look, and the nurse snorted inelegantly. “Don’t you give me that, you horrible child,” she spoke fondly even as she moved packages from the bed to a nearby table.

“I’m not a child,” Brethany pouted slightly, too tired to protest the treatment. “Poppy, can I have something to eat, I’m hungry,” a hint of whining crept into her voice. “You wouldn’t dare starve your patients, would you?”

“Deign to remove that pathetic expression from your face, Miss Lewis,” Severus glided through the door before Poppy had time to respond. “Please at the least pretend you are older than the majority of the students here.”

“I don’t know, Professor Snape,” the younger teacher pouted even further, “When you and Poppy treat me as though I’m twelve, I don’t see why I can’t act as though I am twelve.” She grinned slightly. “Besides, you’re doing the verbal equivalent of yanking my pigtails, and you know what they say about the boy who yanks a girl’s pigtails…”

The potions master raised a dark eyebrow. “No, Miss Lewis, I am unaware what ‘they’ say, but I am sure you are about to enlighten me.”

Brethany’s grin widened. “You only pull the pigtails of the girl you like,” she quoted in a sing-song voice. Both women watched in fascination as Snape’s face flushed, then paled, then flushed again. Wordlessly, the man tossed a vial onto Brethany’s bed, then turned and swept out the door, his face still unusually flushed.

“Oh, my goodness,” Poppy breathed out in astonishment, “I’ve seen the impossible.” Visibly gathering herself, the nurse turned and swooped down upon her patient. “Here, drink this, Brethany.” The young woman was barely given time to open her mouth before she was force-fed the potion Severus had left. “You can’t eat just yet, but this will provide what you need. Now, you go to sleep, or I’ll hex you there.” Brethany grimaced, then slumped in exhaustion. She really was tired…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now honestly, who DIDN'T see that coming?


End file.
